


Let's Spin the Wheel

by Raithwin



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Family Legends, Gen, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Pairings Added as Needed, Prompt Stories, Relationships are optional unless stated at the chapter start, Sad Dream Makes Determined Dream, Writer's Block Breaking, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-11-02 08:30:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20684615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raithwin/pseuds/Raithwin
Summary: Being a collection of prompt based stories I wrote to try and cure my writer's block. Also to practice and get myself back up to speed. So far they're pretty sweet: brotherly bonding in Underfell, a little Afterdeath, an old family legend that fascinates Blue, and Dream giving himself a peptalk to get through the day.





	1. He Fell in Underfell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was done with a first line prompt.
> 
> First line prompt: As he fell, he waited for the final blow…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pairing is completely optional here. If you just want brotherly Underfell slice of life bonding, cool. If you like the Fellcest angle, also cool. Enjoy this ficlet in your preferred flavor!

As he fell, he waited for the final blow to come. He was utterly out of magic. All he had was what kept his bones together and those had seen better days. He was pretty sure every bone on his left side was broken or at least cracked. He didn’t even need to check to know he was clinging to life by the barest thread of HP.

Who knew this stranger would be so crazy strong? He and the Boss had thrown everything they had at the guy and still he kept on coming! Even just looking at the creepy, dripping goopy freak had pissed Red off to no end. For whatever reason, just being in the same area as the guy had brought Red’s self-doubt and depression creeping out past his wall of apathy and nihilism and that pissed him off more. Sure he felt that way most of the time, but it was on his own damned terms!

Now he was falling. That dick of a tentacled asshole had managed to get the better of the Boss, getting its slimy appendages on him and lifting him into the air. Red had used the last of his magic to shortcut between the stranger and his Boss, using a bone attack to bash through the tentacle wrapped around the Boss’s neck and skull. His moment of fierce glee had been short-lived however. The stranger had bellowed in pain before two more tentacles had smashed into Red, sending him flying. There had been a shocked moment of blinding pain followed by the realization that he was falling. The blow had sent him high into the air.

But he’d given his Boss the breathing room he needed and managed to land a good blow at the same time. Red could hear the fight sill going, though the words didn’t make it past the ringing in his skull. His was sure the Boss would win though. So Red closed his sockets and waited for a final blow to come. If their opponent didn’t Dust him, impact with the ground would. He could already feel himself passing out. At least he wouldn’t be awake to feel it.

“Heh, sorry, Pap…” he muttered with a pained laugh.

Then, he passed out.

=-=-=-=-=-=

“….ns…”

Huh?

“…ns!”

What was that? Oh, damn, did he hurt! Nope, nope he wasn’t dealing with this. He was going back to sleep until _that_ stopped.

“Sans! You lazy jerk! Don’t you dare Dust on me!”

Aww, crap, his Boss. Wait… Red’s mind suddenly snapped to the last thing he remembered. He’d been falling.

“SANS!”

Oh shit, the Boss still sounded pissed, but there was something in that tone he hadn’t heard in years.

“You promised! You promised you’d always be with me so don’t you _dare_ go back on your word!”

Oh, damn, Edge was starting to sound both pissed and frantic. He’d better say something.

“…always hated makin’ promises,” he croaked.

“Sans!” Edge exclaimed, sounding relieved and annoyed, “I would smack you for that if you had more than a tenth of a health point.”

Red felt a gentle tug on his collar and managed a breath of a chuckle. He cracked open a socket, which amusingly was about the only part of him that didn’t feel cracked, and managed to focus a white eye light on Edge.

“Knew ya’d win, Boss,” he said.

Edge snorted, “Of course I won! At least, I would have if the coward had not fled.”

“Ah. In that case, gonna be honest while we’re at it, wasn’t really expectin’ to wake up again.”

Edge flushed and looked to the side. Red was rather surprised he didn’t cross his arms. This was looking like a pout otherwise. At least until he noticed that Edge’s left arm was resting limply on his lap.

“Shit, Boss, what happened?” Red demanded, struggling to push himself onto his uninjured right arm.

“Lay back down before you damage yourself further!” Edge snapped, pushing Red back down with little force.

Red grunted but looked pointedly at the arm Edge wasn’t moving. Edge scowled and looked away again.

“It is broken. I wasn’t about to let you land from such a fall. I caught you by your Soul just as that strange monster made his parting strike,” he grudgingly explained.

Red let out a breath, relaxing, “Man, Boss, you’re so cool.”

He was rewarded by seeing Edge sit up straighter, smirk wide and bright.

“Naturally! After all, I am the Great and Terrible Papyrus! Nyeheheh!”

Red managed a real laugh at that even though it made his damaged ribs flare up hot with pain. Edge’s smirk softened into something close to a smile and he snorted, shaking his head.

“Very well, let us get you healed, idiot brother of mine,” Edge said, rough affection warming his words.

Red smiled as soothing coolness spread from the hand still pressed to his chest. He relaxed more and simply accepted the healing magic, letting it do as it wished.

“Thanks, Boss.”

“You are welcome.”

Red’s sockets started to drift closed. Healing always made him drowsy.

“And Sans?”

“Yeah, Boss?”

“You may sleep in tomorrow.”

Red grinned despite himself. Those words were gratitude, relief, and everything Edge couldn’t actually say.

“Thanks, Pap.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive me for not writing everyone with proper capitalization or lack there of! Its still hard for me to do!


	2. On the Wings of Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was: Genre - suspense, character - an angel, material - a ship, line - “is anyone there?”, bonus - character is dying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how I did on the suspense bit, but I rather like this one! Solidly Afterdeath with implied prior relations.

That was the last of them. He’d seen them safely off this sinking ship. They all thought he was right behind them until the very end, just as he’d wanted. Keeping them from coming back had been as simple as striking the release control. The last life boat lowered, taking everyone he cared about to safety. He’d smiled sadly, watching them go even as they called out for him.

A cough racked him and this time he let the blood spill instead of swallowing it down. It splattered hot on the deck, leaving him panting. He hadn’t wanted them to see him like this. He knew he was dying, but he wanted their last view of him to be of him smiling, happy to see them safe. They couldn’t have helped him even if they had tried with every drop of magic they had. The damned ship had decided to take at least one soul with it. A violent lurch had knocked him off his feet as he ascended the final steps.

He’d told the others he was fine, to keep going and he was right behind them. Looking down now as blood continued to leak from his mouth he could finally see what had doomed him. A jagged metal shaft protruded from his ribs, right where they were weakest. He could feel, in an alarmingly painless way, where an edge had nicked part of his Soul. If he’d let the others see, they would have tried to help him and that would have doomed them with him. No, this time, he couldn’t be saved, but this time, this time he’d be able to save everyone. He coughed again, the vision in his good socket dimming. It was a little sad, facing his end alone. He’d finally let himself think his end wouldn’t be like this.

Sound was becoming distorted, muffled in a way. The creak and groan of the dying ship, the faint sound of engines from the escape vehicles, the roar of the water as the ship sank. It all started to fade into a soft hum. Above too, he heard a sound. Faint, soft, but distinct; wings heard from afar.

Blinking, he looked around, “Is anyone there?”

His voice was weak, sounding distant even to himself. He was probably hearing things. The ship lurched again, sending his sliding on the spike that trapped him. This time, it hurt. By the Void, did it hurt! His vision went black as bright, sharp pain flared out from his Soul. He weakly clutched at the metal impaling him, unable even to cough with the grip of the pain. Blood welled up to drip from his mouth and sockets. Ringing was replaced the muffled hum, but over it the rustle of wings came again.

“I…is anyone…there?” he wheezed weakly.

Near silence, and then…

“It’s been a while, sweetheart.”

He knew that voice. This time the _whoomph_ of cupped wings was very close, the wind they stirred gentle on his pounding skull. He tried to smile.

“Hello again, angel,” he said.

A chuckle answered him, “You’re the only angel here, my light. I am only Death.”

Drawing in a sharp, pained breath, he managed a real smile this time as he said, “Even the Angel of the End is an angel still. So tell me, will you bring my end, my Reaper? Bring me peace with your touch?”

He knew he was mostly dead already to be speaking so clearly, so dreamily. He wasn’t normally this eloquent. He had been here before, once. He had teetered for a long time on the edge, too alive to die, to close to death to truly live. That was where he’d first met the Angel of Death. He hadn’t been ready to give in then. Even Death’s touch couldn’t pull him from his determined hold on this life, though he found other pleasures in that touch.

Now though, now he felt ready. He had made good use of his borrowed time. He’d made amends, he’d found his closure, found his peace. His family was safe and they would be happy again. He was content to go now at the hands he could finally admit he had missed. Those same wonderful cool hands that now cupped his jawbone, cool thumbs stroking soothingly along the ridges of his cheeks.

_‘And likely smearing the blood,’_ he thought sardonically.

“Peace I will grant. Peace of a different kind,” Death explained, pressing a soft kiss to his brow, “Open your sockets, my dear Geno, and look. You will find you truly are as I have always called you: my fierce, strong, beautiful Angel of Determination.”

Confused, because he had been sure his sockets were still open, Geno blinked. His vision cleared. Death was smiling at him, blank sockets somehow dancing.

“Reaper?”

“Come away with me, Geno,” Reaper murmured.

His gorgeous black wings spread and, with a gentle flap, pulled them aloft. Geno felt fear tear through him. His hands scrambled to take a secure hold of Reaper’s robe, waiting to feel the spike restrain him. But there was nothing, his body was aloft. In the air with Reaper steadily pulling him higher. He looked down. The deck was still splattered with his blood. The metal shaft remained, jagged and stained with marrow and magic, but his Dust was not there.

Growing panicked with confusion, Geno looked back to Reaper.

“Look, my angel,” Reaper said again.

Something impossible suddenly came to him. It came in the way his body felt. In the way the air moved. In how Reaper guided him, fairly glowing with love and pride. And so Geno looked. And he gasped.

“And now you see, my dearest Geno,” Reaper said, tone warm with emotions.

Geno had wings! Wings as large as Reaper’s, spreading wide behind him. There were mostly white, the tips edged in red, the leading edge shaded with blue that faded into hints of purple. He had wings, but he didn’t understand! Wild eyed, full of questions and confusion, he turned once again to Reaper.

“Reaper, what…?”

Reaper laughed and Geno almost smacked him. His fear of what would happen if he let go was all that saved Death.

“These wings will take you where you wish, angel. You earned them through your determination and your selfless actions. If you had not been so determined and alert, I would have been very busy tonight,” Reaper paused to nod down at the retreating life boats, “Instead, everyone survived and the only call was to come to you once again.”

Reaper flapped again and suddenly they were above the clouds. The moonlight washed across them, bathing Reaper in an extra ethereal glow. Geno’s racing mind quieted at the beautiful sight of Death, haloed in moonlight with the stars dancing behind.

_Where did he wish to go?_

“These wings can take you to your final rest if you wish. Soft and gentle as snow fall. Or…” Reaper trailed off, suddenly seeming unsure.

“Or?” Geno asked.

Swallowing, Reaper continued, “Or, you can use them to come away with me. You have become so dear to me, Geno, my everything. Existence without you these years has been so lonely. I have missed you, your smile, your laugh, your touch, everything about you. Geno, my dear Determined Angel, will you come away with me?”

Geno almost couldn’t believe it. How did he have this kind of luck? He had been caught on the very precipice of the gentle abyss by Death himself and now that same Death was showing him how he might fly again into a new life. Death, who despite occasionally being obnoxious, had been sweet in his own awkward way. Death, who was watching him so hopefully, waiting without breath for an answer.

Geno smiled. Then chuckled. It grew and grew until it became a laugh of pure, overwhelming joy. He flexed his new wings and now he was the one pulling Reaper up to the heavens. He pulled Death closer to him, still smiling.

“Yes, I will fly away with you, my Angel of Death,” he said, eye light bright.

He had never seen Death so happy.


	3. The Old Manor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another first line prompt!
> 
> First line prompt: The old house, with its wildly overgrown garden, was silent…

The old house, with its wildly overgrown garden, was silent, secretive almost. Blue stared up at it from the broken garden gate wondering, for just a brief moment, if this had really been a good idea. He’d found the deed for the house when going through a trunk in his father’s attic. When he’d shown it to Gaster, he’d remembered a story his own father had told him.

_“There’s a manor house in the forest outside of town. It’s grounds are plentiful, its gardens lush and verdant. It has always belonged to the Sarif clan, passed down the line from parent to child, from family to family.”_

_“You may ask why we no longer live there. It is a good question. There is said to be magics on the house, magics that turned unwelcoming. The last family was said to have Dusted under mysterious circumstances.”_

_“Indeed, Dust was found in one bedroom by a close relative. That relative, mourning the loss, scattered the Dust across the grounds and garden before closing up the house. So great was their grief that they could not even enter the house again. So the deed passed from them to another family. Then to another, and so on and on, down the years to us.”_

After his father had told him this family legend, Blue had asked if anyone had tried entering since those long ago days. Gaster had shrugged and admitted he’d never seen the old house. They had started to look through the trunk together when Blue pulled out an album dating back centuries. The first pages were sketches of the house and watercolors of the gardens. After that had been photos, most of them very old and faded. Each photo had shown a family standing at the very gate Blue now hovered at, smiling.

The legends and pictures of the old house had fascinated Blue. He couldn’t get them out of his thoughts no matter how he tried. It got to the point where he was dreaming about the old house and its gardens. But it wasn’t until his friend and trainer had mentioned his being very distracted that Blue decided he needed to do something.

So now, here he was having taken a leave of absence from work to come rediscover the old family home. When he’d called his father to explain his plan, Gaster had insisted Blue take the old album and the deed. Gaster had also insisted Blue take supplies for cleaning, repairs and camping. He’d quite reasonably pointed out the house had been abandoned for a long while and may no longer be in good shape.

Looking at the old house now, Blue was grateful for that advice. The manor wasn’t as decrepit as a house abandoned for centuries might be, but it did have a weathered, uncared for look about it. Almost ragged and brooding, as if it knew its fate and had resigned itself to it. A surge of sympathetic sadness welled up in Blue at the thought. It also steeled his resolve. He would do right by this old house and bring it back to its former beauty.

Bouncing a little on his toes, Blue stepped through the gate and started working his way through the gardens. The overgrowth had long since destroyed any path that had once been. Weeds and wild grasses grew thick and tall anywhere bush and tree didn’t claim. Some of the weeds were taller than Blue was. There were young trees growing here and there that seemed like wild volunteers from the forest. Most where Blue was trying to walk didn’t seem too big yet and he found himself wondering if he would be able to transplant them out in the forest proper rather than cutting down healthy young trees.

“Oh!”

Blue suddenly tripped, his foot catching on something. His landing was softened by the thick, tall grass he’d been wading through. Wincing, he looked to find he’d tripped over what had probably once been a paver. He’d have to remember about it when he came back for his things. Clearing some kind of path would have to be one of the first tasks after taking a look at the house. Picking himself up, Blue flexed his ankle to make sure it was okay before carefully pushing the paver back down. It made a good marker, if nothing else, but he didn’t want to trip on it again. That done, he resumed his trek to the house.

Almost five minutes later, Blue suddenly burst free of the garden tangle onto the first of three steps up to the door. He stopped for a moment when the wood made an ominous little groan, but it seemed willing to hold him. Still, Blue stuck close to the old, splintering raining as he made his way up, thinking it was a good thing skeletons were naturally rather light weight.

The steps conquered, Blue found himself on a comfortable porch that stretched along the entire front of the home. The boards looked in remarkably good condition. There was only a few places where they seemed to be lifting and there was hardly any warping.

“There really must be some magic on the house. Otherwise there would surely be more damage to the wood,” Blue commented to himself.

Still, he tested the boards as he crossed the porch to the door. They made their own little squeaks, but like the stairs they held firm. The paint on the door had long since faded away, but it might have once been red. There had been an old key in the folder with the deed. Now Blue took it from his pocket and fitted it to the old lock, noting a lack of rust. The lock was stubborn still, resisting turning. Finally, it clicked open and Blue felt like he was vibrating with the excitement of it all.

Here he was, the first person in generations to enter the old house that had become a family legend. What would greet him on the other side? Would the old house welcome him? Would it be full of darkness? Rattle and whisper with old secrets? Blue grinned, turned the handle and pushed open the door. It creaked with appropriate ominousness as it swung open, revealing a fairly dark hallway. Dust motes danced in the morning sunlight flooding in from behind him. Nothing immediately jumped out at him.

“Well that was anticlimactic,” Blue sighed.

Looking around again, Blue realized the hallway wasn’t that dark. Soft light was coming from further down the hall and from the doors to either side of him. It was marginally brighter from the left hand door. A quick peek around the edge of the door frame showed why. The curtains had been left partway open, allowing sunlight to spill in a narrow strip across the room and its covered furniture. It was as he traced this path that Blue, quite suddenly, found his eye lights locked with a dark set of eyes. A fox with fur that seemed almost golden in the sunlight stared at him from behind the arm of a covered couch. Blue gasped softly, caught up in the very fairytale feeling of the moment.

“Hello,” he said softly, “Do you live here?”

The fox’s ears flicked partway back and Blue could have sworn the creature raised an eyebrow. It didn’t have them of course, but that was how it seemed to him. Now, for all the world, the fox seemed to be giving Blue some kind of sarcastic look. Blue frowned, not sure if he should be irritated or not. He took a step forward.

“I…”

Before he could finish his sentence or take another step, the fox was off the couch. It darted around the far side and Blue chased after it. He just caught a glimpse of the white tip of its tail disappear around the edge of another doorway. That led into another hallway. Again, that white tail tip vanished around a corner. Blue followed and found himself in the first hallway facing the front door just in time to see the fox leap from the porch into the tangled growth that was the garden.

Blue jogged to a stop at the door. Nothing in the garden moved to give hint of the fox’s passage. It had, for now at least, vanished. Another mystery to add to the list. Blue scratched at a cheek before turning to look up at the house with a smile.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said to the old house, patting the door frame.

More than ever, he wanted to know this house, its past, and its secrets. Most importantly, he wanted to see it restored. A daunting project but certainly one the Magnificent, Sansational Blue was up to!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a chance I may write more of this later, but probably not for a while. Still it's got my interest.


	4. Dreams are Wishes of the Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another first line prompt! Featuring our dear Dream. 
> 
> First line prompt: As the dream faded, he chased it, forlorn…

As the dream faded, he chased it, forlorn. Yet even for him, the dream did not stay. Dream stared at the ceiling, tears sliding down either side of his skull to stain his pillow. In a sort of cruel-kindness, he could remember the dream perfectly. Inside the dream had been so happy. Now, looking at it from the outside, Dream only felt a deep yearning for what it promised and despair at the near impossibility of it.

He couldn’t even feel his brother’s magic when he carefully examined the dream. He had no one to blame but his own terribly hopeful mind. Whoever said all one needed was hop to keep positive had never hoped for so long to know it was in vain. Even for the Guardian of Dreams, the very embodiment of positivity, it was so hard to stay positive with this weighing him down. He hid it well but the sadness was always a tight know in his chest. A faint blemish on hidden in the glow of his Soul.

“No! Get it together, Dream. If you let it get to you, Nightmare will feel it across the damned multiverse and come find you to be smug and annoying in person.”

And be sure to tell him how _good_ his negative emotions tasted and blah, blah, blah…_ugh!_ Dream sat up and scrubbed the tears from his face. There was too much to do to let this dream get him down. Hope may hurt but hope combined with faith and iron clad belief was also what buoyed him. They kept him going even when things seemed bleak.

“Just because it seems impossible doesn’t mean it is, Dream,” he told himself.

He tried not to think about how often he had to give himself these little pep talks. No, he’d keep doing what he always did every day. He’d keep fighting on. And maybe, just maybe, with enough faith, hope, and help from his friends, he’d one day have what his dream so cruelly offered. Until then, he’d keep it tucked away. A painful, hopeful dream that reminded him what the future could hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little sad, but sometimes you can't help the sad. Still, he is a determined apple! Wonder what he was dreaming of?
> 
> Side note, this is the shortest of the prompt fics. Probably technically a drabble.


End file.
